


Night Takes Pawn

by Captains_Orders



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, M/M, Spoilers, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-21 01:53:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10675257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captains_Orders/pseuds/Captains_Orders
Summary: The eternal night has come and Cor has made it his mission to prepare for the Chosen King's return. Scouting Insomnia should have been relatively simple, but nothing ever is, especially not when what they find opens old wounds Cor thought scarred.





	Night Takes Pawn

**Author's Note:**

> I've been stewing over this idea for a while and a tumblr prompt gave me the perfect excuse to finish it and somehow make it even more painfully worse than it was to start with.  
> Titus was pretty much forgotten during the game, and considering how he was described as being someone Noctis admired among other things I felt like not putting him in the game in someway was a wasted angsty opportunity. 
> 
> unbetad  
> super unbetad actually because as i post this my allergies are slowly killing me and i did not reread this at all

Insomnia was bathed in light, and it seemed like a taunt, the way the city glowed in the darkness. 

“Bring us down before the gate. Best not risk the ship until we know what to expect in the city.” 

“That was the plan,” The mercenary woman replied from beside him. “You heard the man, boys. Take us down.”

“You got it, Lady A,” said the pilot, and the ship hummed a new tune as it began it's decent. 

“So,” Aranea began, stepping away from the pilot’s seat and making her way to the center of the small ship. “What’s the plan, Mister Immortal?” His brow twitched in irritation at the nickname, and he followed her slowly, unused to having a ship beneath his feet. 

“We scout, bit by bit. I doubt we’ll be able to get close to the citadel, but we need to at least take a bridge. Hopefully we pave a path for His Majesty’s return.”

“Our primary goal is to access a library,” Monica added, tapping the notepad on her lap.

“And hope you find something on Chancellor freakshow?” Cor nodded and Aranea shrugged, leaning against the wall of the ship with a casualness that felt misplaced. Like they weren’t about to drop into the ruins of Insomnia in the dead of their new eternal night. In all truth Cor still wasn’t sure what to think of the woman. Prompto, Gladio, and Ignis had vouched for her fiercely, and he owed her for their safe return, but trust was something he hadn’t yet reached. 

They landed then, cutting off any further conversation as the ship settled on the ground. Monica took a moment to find her balance as she stood up from where she’d settled herself on the floor during the flight from Lestallum. She looked a little green, but the motion sickness would wear off soon, and she waved off his concerned look. 

“Well at least he’s keeping the lights on,” Aranea said once the disembarked. The street lights at the West Gate flickered in response. 

“Keep your guard up, those aren’t strong enough to ward off daemons,” he replied, scanning the dark, hand instinctively coming to rest on the hilt of his blade. 

“Might not keep out daemons, but I’ve got a feeling that might keep out unwanted guests.” Aranea’s tone turned suddenly serious, and Cor turned his attention up to where she was pointing. An armored figure was strung up above the gate, arms extended and held by what might have been chains. Maybe a warning or an example, Cor wasn’t sure, Ardyn Izunia’s twisted methods were beyond him. In the dark it was hard to make much out, but some parts of the metal shone in the light, just enough for him to make out the almost familiar shape, preserved by whatever dark magic their foe was so fond of using. 

"Is that-"

"General Glauca,” Aranea finished for him, squinting up at the figure through the gloom. “Yep.” Poor guy.” 

“Did you know him?” Monica asked and Aranea shrugged. 

“Not really, only met him once. Quiet for the most part, a bit dramatic, but not as bad as I thought he'd be. Better than the rest of the Empire’s lackeys at least. Well except for me and these two of course.” Cor huffed and somehow managed to keep his eyes from rolling, and wondered if the woman was ever serious. Doubtful, he decided, given what he’d seen. Still, it was cruel to be left in such a way.

“Get him down,” Cor said. “No one deserves that, not even someone like him.” Then he turned his attention to scanning the area around them, watching out for any terrors lurking in the dark, only half listening to what was going on behind him. 

“You got it,” Aranea replied and Cor could hear her leap into the air and land on top of the wall with an easy grace. “Oh, yikes.” 

“Is he still alive?” Monica called up to her in response. 

“I hope not, that would suck.” Was all Aranea said before she fell silent. “Alright boys, I’m gonna need you to brace and catch.”

“Right!”

“Got it!”

“Bombs away!” The second chain broke louder than the first, and the ring of chains was quickly followed by a hard thump as what was left of General Glauca hit the men below. A muffled argument broke out, Cor wasn’t eavesdropping enough to understand, but the sudden horrified gasp quickly snapped his attention back around to his companions. Monica staggered back toward him, a hand over her mouth.

“Monica what is it?” She only shook her head, turning away from him like the question hurt.

Concerned he reached the body, the men who caught having retreated a fair distance after Monica’s outburst. Half the helmet had been broken away and the face beneath it made his blood run cold because he knew it. Knew it all too well. Titus Drautos looked pained in the peace of death, whatever battle corroded the armor had taken a greater toll. As Cor knelt beside him he noticed more, but he could hardly process what his eyes were telling him, violently rejecting what it meant. 

“What kind of cruel trick is this?”

“No tricks here I assure you.” Cor was back on his feet in an instant, sword drawn and ready in his hand as he shot Ardyn Izunia an icy glare. To his right Aranea was poised and ready for a fight, and to his right Monica cocked her gun.

“What did you do to him?” Cor demanded, anger burning through him. Ardyn chuckled. 

“Nothing he didn’t ask for,” he replied with a sinister grin and made his way further into the light. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Aranea voiced Cor’s thought before he could speak it himself and so he simply waited for the answers he was desperate for. 

“Years ago Nifleheim took a quaint little village by the sea. I met a boy there and gave him an opportunity, serve the Empire and his home would be spared and oh how eager he was for that bargain when next we met. Killing the king was just an added bonus for both of us. You see, Captain Drautos was against you all along. Almost poetic, isn’t it?” It had to be lies, he wanted it so desperately to be lies. Something in him knew it was the truth, and it made it all the worse. Betrayal stung worse than he ever imagined, but the pure rage boiling forth eclipsed it by far. 

“You bastard!” Cor lunged, sword singing as it slashed through suddenly empty air. 

“Please there’s no need for that, Marshal,” and the way Ardyn rolled the title off his tongue made it sound like a mockery. “Truth be told I was saving him for dear old Noct, but I’m starting to think this is so much better.”

“You’ll pay for this!” And Cor lashed out again, catching the former chancellor in the middle and. There was silence and for a moment all Cor could hear was his huffing breath and the blood roaring in his ears as his anger dulled to something he could once again control. Ardyn returned soon enough, his expression one of mild irritation. 

“I did wonder why you were spared, quite the tragedy,” he said close to Cor’s ear. “But there is only one immortal in this world, Marshal, and I am getting quite sick of sharing my title.” Then he snapped, and before Cor could strike again he was gone. 

“Leonis, we have a problem!” Aranea pulled his attention back to the scene behind him and what he saw made him taste bile. 

Purple swirled around Glauca’s armored form as he rose from both the ground and the dead, the sickly black of the Scourge creeping over the places where the armor was still intact. 

“No more,” he groaned in a voice that sounded nothing like the one Cor knew. Aranea recovered from the shock first, lashing out with her spear as Glauca lashed out with a gauntlet that was quickly becoming twisted and sharp. Pulling himself together, Cor threw himself into the ensuing fray. 

“Fight it,” he begged as he crossed his blade with that rapidly transforming arm. 

“I don’t think he can,” Aranea snapped, narrowly jumping over a low swipe and twisting herself in the air to counter with a jab of her lance. She was right, Cor knew she was, but knowing didn’t make it any easier, and despite the stakes of the fight Cor found himself holding back. So he kept speaking, almost pleading, and Aranea kept cursing as they battled for their lives, keeping Glauca occupied and away from the others. 

Perhaps it was their frantic attempt at distraction that drew Glauca’s attention away, or maybe it was his own words. Whatever it was Cor watched that single eye, surrounded by sickly black, move away from them and towards Monica, standing back with Biggs and Wedge, unable to do anything but watch the scene unfold. Glauca parried his attack, knocking Aranea back with the force, and lurched toward the group with an uncanny speed. Cor was faster. Before Glauca could strike he was there, thrusting his blade into the place where the blackened armor seemed weak across his chest. Everything stopped, and Cor watched in abject horror as the darkness began to melt away, revealing the man beneath. 

“Cor?” Titus gasped, voice his own once more before he fell back, and Cor followed.

Kotetsu had struck true, and Cor felt the long blade enter the ground where it had pierced through the armored back it was buried in. Cor landed on his knees, harsh against the cracked pavement, almost cradled against a side he’d once known so intimately. He was going into shock. Quick breath and shaking limbs. A weak hand reached up towards his face and Cor caught it and brought it to his cheek, pressing against it, rough metal against soft skin. Grounding himself with the touch. Titus wanted to speak, a thousand words trapped in his eye, warm grey clearing from the taint of the Scourge in his final moments.

“Glad it was you,” he breathed out, hoarse and quiet. It didn’t make much sense to Cor, but he knew there was a meaning behind it deeper than he could fathom.

“Save your strength, Titus,” Cor insisted like it would somehow make a difference. 

With his free hand he smoothed back the dying man’s hair. Titus shuddered against the soothing touch, eye fluttering like he was fighting to keep it open. Wordlessly his mouth moved, whatever final words he had lost with his failing strength. So Cor kissed him, trying to convey everything through that familiar touch. Titus reciprocated, weak but sure, cold lips pressing against his, and something passed between them that Cor couldn’t ever hope to name. It was awkward, the right side of his face scraping against the edge of the partially crumbled helm. Despite the discomfort he kept close, like the gentle connection of their mouths could stave off the inevitable. But it couldn't. Soon Titus exhaled, a soft puff of air tickling Cor’s face, and then he went slack beneath him. 

Cor pulled away slowly, vision blurred just so as he watched the man dissolve, flaking away in bright sparks as the astrals claimed him at last. There was a cruel beauty to it, but Cor knew that at least in the end, Titus had known peace. His lips tasted like salt and ash and countless questions that would never be answered. The one thing he had now was closure, which settled the pieces of his broken heart into something that was almost whole. 

When Aranea suggested they head back to Hammerhead Cor didn’t protest. The trip back was silent and Cor was so lost in his own thoughts he would not have noticed speaking anyway. Monica’s hand against his pulled him back to the present, and he looked down as she laced their fingers and squeezed with all the comfort she could offer. For now that was enough. It had to be.


End file.
